A Complication of Desire
by laurielove
Summary: The Ministry has initiated a programme in which people who fought for the Light are assigned a Death Eater to mentor. When Hermione is assigned someone she detests passionately, she finds herself reacting to him differently than she would have anticipated. And the presence of another former enemy only complicates things further. How will she react? Who will she choose? LM/HG DM/HG
1. Chapter 1

**This is the story I wrote for the last LMHG fic exchange on Live Journal. I'd forgotten to move it over here. It's six chapters long and all ready to go, so I will be posting it over the coming week in its entirety. And it does not have a tragic ending. Just sayin'. (Although I would advise caution if you are a Draco fan.) Also, this is not a long, deeply analytical tale. I wrote it quickly and never intended it to be long and soul-searching.**

**The original prompt asked for Hermione to be assigned Lucius in a community service programme. This is my interpretation of that. It's a love triangle. It was good to include Draco in more depth for once. ;-)**

**Enjoy. x**

* * *

There had been rumbling rumours in the Ministry for weeks before the memo at last appeared.

Hermione had insider knowledge of its imminent arrival, but even she ignored the reality of what it meant for her.

But finally, when an owl dropped an official memorandum signed by the Minister himself on her desk, she had to acknowledge it.

She reached for the note and unfolded it reluctantly. Sighing, she read gloomily:

_'After careful discussion with the Wizarding Reform Agency, the Governor of Azkaban Prison, and community representatives across the country, it has been decided that wizards and witches formerly in direct service to the dark wizard Voldemort (commonly known as 'Death Eaters') will be offered a choice of rehabilitation._

_A sentence in Azkaban has previously been passed on all such 'Death Eaters', but the Ministry hereby instates a ruling of preferential community service. These persons will no longer serve an automatic sentence in Azkaban, unless they so choose. Instead, they will be assigned to a witch or wizard who was loyal to the opposing side during the war. Under the guidance and mentoring of this guardian witch or wizard they will be instructed in rehabilitative processes designed to reform and improve their reasoning and beliefs._

_If this proves successful they will be spared Azkaban. If not, their original sentence will stand._

_If you were an active participant in the fight against Lord Voldemort, you will shortly be receiving notification of the person (former 'Death Eater') you will be mentoring._

_Exempt from this ruling are Aurors and Ministry officials beyond Amber Level._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister for Magic.'_

Hermione tossed the memo dismissively across her desk. She was not an Auror, unlike Harry and Ron, and she was only an official on Maroon level, one below Amber. The very thought of 'preferential community service' filled her with dread. She couldn't think of a single Death Eater she had any wish to see again.

Her mind throbbed with the possibilities of who she may be assigned: Rodolphus Lestrange? Dolores Umbridge? Yaxley?

She let her head slump into her hands, pulling her fingers through her hair. With the intention of purging her mind of any thought of it, she spent the rest of the day annotating notes from a meeting she'd attended on magical inaccuracies in historical documents. By early evening her mind was numb enough for her to take solace in a drink with Harry and Ron.

'Did you get the memo?' queried Ron cautiously.

'Of course,' she retorted before hurling a slug of Sauvignon Blanc down her throat.

'How do you feel about it?' Harry dared.

'How do you think I feel? It's alright for you; you're exempt.'

'Yeah – sorry about that.'

'Don't be silly, Harry. You're not remotely sorry.'

'Well, it's just ... with all the Auror stuff we're just too busy,' added Ron with undeniable smugness. 'When are we going to have time to babysit a load of Death Eaters?'

She rounded on him violently. 'Oh, piss off, Ron! I'm busy too!'

'Do you have any idea who you're getting?'

'No. I don't want to think about it either.'

'When will you find out?'

'Next day or so, apparently.' She sighed audibly, letting her forefinger run distractedly round the rim of her glass.

Ron shrugged. 'Might not be too bad. It might be someone like Narcissa Malfoy.'

'Not too bad? I would sooner gouge out my own eyes with a blunt spoon that mentor Narcissa Malfoy! She hates me with pure, unbridled passion. And she's newly divorced so she's going to be bitter and miserable.'

'True.' Harry agreed, bringing his glass to his mouth thoughtfully. 'Although she left him, apparently.'

Hermione let her head fall back and her eyes close, trying to block out the discussion of anything Malfoy. 'I really don't care how it happened.'

'What if you get Draco?' chipped in Ron.

'Oh god! Draco might be trying really hard these days, but honestly ... could you see me _mentoring_ him?'

Harry laughed. 'Oh come on! You never know, you might enjoy it. It's a challenge. You love a challenge.'

'Only on my terms.'

'Then make it on your terms. I think it's basically up to you how you go about things, as long as you report to the Ministry frequently.'

She managed a half-hearted smile. He was right: she couldn't resist a challenge.

xoOox

Still, the next Wednesday it was with great trepidation that Hermione reached for the parchment containing the name of her assignment. All the notifications to Ministry employees had been hand-delivered by Shacklebolt's secretary. Hermione gave her a terse smile of dismissal when she found her lingering, eyeing up Hermione's scroll. The secretary took the hint and left with a huff.

Hermione held the parchment with trembling fingers, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. She uncurled it slowly and hesitantly, training her eyes to read one line at a time.

_'Dear Miss Granger,_

_Further to the Ministry ruling regarding the Former 'Death Eater' Community Service programme, we are delighted to inform you of the witch or wizard you will be mentoring._

_In careful discussion with senior psycholowizards and witches, you have been allocated:'_

Hermione swallowed, unrolled that little bit further and let her eyes fall onto the name.

'_Lucius A. Malfoy.'_

'Bloody fucking hell.'

She dropped the parchment immediately, not reading anymore. Two women walking past her office paused and looked her way, their eyebrows raised in shock at the surprisingly filthy tongue on one of the most charming and respected members of the Ministry.

Hermione groaned again and slumped to her desk, banging her head on it several times in abject horror and disbelief.

Even notes on magical historical inaccuracies could not numb her mind from the horror which now overwhelmed her. She asked Harry to meet for an early drink.

He and Ron found her scowling into a nearly empty G and T as soon as they arrived. Another empty glass rested on the table. They glanced at each other warily and sat beside her.

'So ... who did you get?'

'Don't bloody ask.'

'You have to tell us.'

She took a large gulp before answering. 'Malfoy.'

Ron spluttered out a laugh. 'You got Draco?! Ha! Could be worse, I suppose.'

She scowled. 'Not Draco.'

'Oh. Who then? Not ...?' Ron glanced at Harry, his eyes widening in disbelief.

'Daddy Darling,' spat Hermione.

'Oh fuck.'

'Exactly.'

'Right.' Ron tutted with bewildered resignation.

'But he's ...' started Harry.

'What? _What is he?' _Hermione turned on him viciously. 'Bigoted, arrogant, rude, obnoxious, self-opinionated, prejudiced, deluded, patronising, condescending, mad, warped, sadistic, evil? Anything else?'

'I was going to say he's very different to how he was before the war.'

'Oh.' She was clearly unconvinced.

'Well, honestly, he is. He was really shaken up by the way Voldemort treated his family. And now his wife's left him. He's not the man he used to be.'

'Old habits die hard. I'm a Muggle-born, in case you hadn't noticed. And he is a pureblood supremacist. Notice any issues there?'

'Well, can you change? Get someone else?' suggested Ron.

'Maybe I should try.'

Harry shook his head. 'You can't. Everyone knows people are going to whine and complain about their allocations. The Ministry haven't allowed changes.'

Hermione let her head fall back against the wall, shutting her eyes against the reality of it. 'Great. Stuck with Lucius bloody Malfoy. What the hell am I going to do with him?'

'Brush his hair?'

'Bugger off, Harry.'

xoOox

She had no choice. Her first meeting with Malfoy was to be the following Monday. She had been briefed on what to expect, what to note and what to report back. She felt under as much pressure as if she were a Death Eater herself.

The wards of the Manor had supposedly been lowered for her to gain Apparation entry. Still, she was relieved when she found herself inside the gates safe and sound, having half-expected to be vaporised on the spot. She was led into a large sitting room by a house-elf, although she noted the elf was dressed well and seemed to have a natural, cheerful demeanour.

It was a well-proportioned room, large, but not intimidatingly so. The dark green tones calmed her, despite their connotations. She saw him immediately. He was seated in a high-backed chair before the fire. Tea things were laid out on a table before him. When she came in he turned to look round.

Lucius Malfoy stood and moved towards her. She barely knew where to look.

'Good afternoon, Miss Granger.'

'Hello.' She gave a dry cough, unsure what to say. 'I'm here for ...'

'Yes. I know why you're here. I have been fully informed.'

She nodded awkwardly and glanced around.

'Sit down if you wish.'

She did eventually, sitting in the chair opposite his, but only after a significant amount of time had passed wherein she hoped he had registered her disdain.

Silence.

'Tea?'

'OK.' Pause. 'Thanks.' She squirmed. It seemed strange thanking Lucius Malfoy for anything.

He poured it himself. The action struck her as odd coming from him. He offered her the tea cup. He had long fingers and neat fingernails. She looked away.

Pursing his lips, Malfoy took a sip from his cup. Hermione did not.

'You know I'm only doing this because I have to. I have no idea why I was allocated you. It was nothing to do with me,' she said hurriedly.

'I assumed not.'

'I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you.'

Silence.

'I don't suppose you want to go back to Azkaban, do you?' she ventured.

He did not at first reply. She almost gave up listening for a response.

'No.'

Hermione huffed. 'No one's ever really explained what I'm supposed to get out of this. Waste of my time,' she half-muttered.

'Were you always this querulous?' Lucius' question, almost delivered with a hint of amusement, took her aback.

'Querulous? What sort of a word is that?'

'Rather a good one.'

His flippancy irked her further. 'In what way is it a 'good' word?'

'It sits rather pleasantly on the tongue, don't you think?'

'I ...' The conversation was bewildering her. But then, what exactly was she to talk about with Lucius Malfoy?

He was smirking at her. She hated him for it and looked away.

'I repeat my question: Were you always this querulous?'

'Only with people who previously tried to kill me,' she retorted.

His eyebrows – remarkably elegant ones, she noted – rose high. 'When did I try to kill you?'

'In the Department of Mysteries.'

'No. I was not trying to kill you. I was trying to get the Prophecy from your little friend.' His words were delivered with unassuming smoothness, although they lacked the pinched arrogance she remembered from before.

'You failed.'

'You need not remind me.'

'Does it pain you to be reminded of it?'

He drank from his cup before responding, his grey eyes trained into it. 'I don't like to be reminded of the consequences of it.'

Silence fell between them again. She found herself looking at him intently; he had the sort of face which compelled you to stare at it. She dared press on.

'When you came out of Azkaban ... you must have been thrilled.'

'Thrilled,' he repeated with a clearly sardonic trill.

'You were home again.'

'Technically.'

'What do you mean?'

'It did not quite feel like home.'

'Didn't it? Why not?'

'I had to share my house with ... others.'

'But weren't they your ... friends?' She knew she was goading him.

He smirked into his cup. 'No. Not friends. They were not people I particularly admired.'

'But you admired Voldemort.'

'I _had _admired him.'

'But no longer?'

'Possibly not.'

'But you daren't acknowledge that at the time?'

'No. Not to myself and clearly not to anyone else.'

Hermione was surprised at his candour and finally felt inclined to take a drink of her tea. Raising her eyes from it, she found him staring hard across at her. She was struck by how bright his eyes were in stark contrast to the matte of his demeanour.

'I'm surprised you tolerate me being here at all,' she said factually.

'Like you, Miss Granger, I do not have a choice. A return to Azkaban is to be avoided at all costs. In any case ...'

'What?'

He averted his eyes. 'I find my previously held convictions not quite as forceful as before.'

Hermione stared, almost forgetting to breathe. Was he really admitting to this so readily?

'Why is that?'

His smirk returned. 'Querulous _and_ demanding. _You_ clearly have not changed.'

She shrugged. 'You don't have to answer if you don't want.'

'I am aware of that,' he replied coldly. She thought she had elicited his indignant silence, but placing the cup on the table he eventually spoke again, low and deep in thought. 'When one has been flayed: physically, emotionally and intellectually ... when one has been stripped bare, denied all that one held to be true, both in terms of self-perception and perception by others ... there is little point in clinging to ideals of a time which is dead. It is not that I decided to let go of my beliefs, rather that they ran off and abandoned me.'

She looked hard at him, suddenly fascinated by all he was. 'So you don't hate me anymore?'

'I never hated you, Miss Granger. I did not regard you with enough humanity to engender hatred. You were nothing. You were simply nothing. And as such it was very easy for me to contemplate your elimination. If I had thought of you as human things would have been different.'

'Different?'

'Harder.'

'How charming,' she said, her lips pursed.

'That is the way it was.' He shrugged a little. She almost admired his dispassionate assessment.

'And now? Do you see me as human now?'

Malfoy simply watched her for a while. The air grew thick between them and Hermione felt her throat running dry. She took a sip to relieve the tension.

'Sitting in an arm-chair drinking tea strikes me as a very human pastime.'

She had her answer. And as the tea seeped hot and quenching through her, so too did a warm glow she knew emanated from his words. She smiled, unable not to, aware that he was still watching her.

They spoke easily after that, not about anything terribly significant, but enough so that Hermione was surprised when she realised it was time for her to go. Perhaps Harry had been right – Malfoy had changed since the war. She was not convinced yet, but this task wasn't going to be as onerous as she had feared.

'I'll be back next week for an hour. Tuesday, two o'clock. Is that alright?'

In actual fact, he had no choice in the matter, but instead of making a sarcastic comment highlighting this, Lucius simply nodded his head.

'Bye then.' She found herself smiling slightly but genuinely at him.

'Goodbye, Miss Granger. Until next week.'

The feeling those last two words elicited, startlingly confirmed to her what she had suspected: she was looking forward to seeing him again.

xoOox

Hermione left the room and stood briefly in the hallway of the Manor, still and silent. Her memories of the house were blurred and indistinct and she realised the place did not fill her with the dread and fevered horror she had feared. She looked around. It was a beautiful space: elegant, grand, but still surprisingly intimate and warming, with the ruddy, smooth lustre of age-old oak and the rich red velvet of generations past. She inhaled. It smelt good too, as if the spirits of the years had imparted their own alluring aroma as well as their history.

'Granger.'

She gasped and turned in surprise to see Lucius' son standing across the hall from her. 'Oh. Hello, Draco.'

'I heard you'd been assigned ...' He jerked his head towards the sitting room, not saying his father's name.

'Yes.'

'Thought I might see you around.'

'Do you still live here?'

'More or less. I have a place in London, but it's just as easy to Apparate to and from here. Home comforts and all that.'

_A dozen house elves and all that_, thought Hermione. Still, she had seen Draco on and off over the months since the war and had allowed herself to develop a modicum of respect for him. If the war had changed his father, it had certainly changed Draco. Gone was the acerbic arrogance, replaced by a mellow caution and humbled acceptance of the new order. On the occasions she had seen him recently, she had to admit that he had been genuinely polite and at ease. It had taken a lot for her to accept, but as time passed, the animosity which had existed between them had faded.

'I'm sure your father appreciates you still being here.'

'Yeah, he does. And I appreciate having him around too.'

'Good. All good then.' She rather wanted to go. She needed to make notes on her meeting with Lucius and prepare for the following week.

Draco did not move. His eyes looked her up and down. 'You look well.'

'Oh. Thanks.' She ran a hand over her hair instinctively and felt her cheeks flushing. 'I ... umm ... I'm just off.'

'Right.'

'See you around ... maybe.'

'Yeah. Bye, Granger.'

She headed past him, an awkward fixed smile on her face.

'Granger.'

'Yes?'

'Sorry.'

She stood there, rigid. 'What?'

'Sorry. For being a total knob.'

'Right.' It took her completely by surprise. The shock forced out her candour. 'Yeah, you were a total knob.'

'I know.'

'But ... I can understand why.' She could. Forgiving him felt right.

He smiled gently and nodded.

'Bye then.'

'Bye.'

As Hermione left her soul swelled, but she couldn't help thinking that it would have swollen even more if the apology had come not from Draco Malfoy, but from his father.

* * *

**More in the next day or so. Reviews are still, even as I become a veteran of fan fiction, greatly appreciated and loved. Also, head over to Like my facebook page - Laurielove - if you want to keep abreast (ahem) of stories and lusting madness.**

**LL x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Next chapter for you all. This wasn't intended as a long fic. Things move along quite quickly. If you'd like a slow burn, try nearly all of my other long stories. Thanks for the lovely reviews and comments. It's great to be posting something unfamiliar to most of you here. LL x**

* * *

Hermione arrived slightly early the next Tuesday. Lucius himself answered the door. She could not deny the jolt of her insides when she looked up into his face. 'Hi.'

'Come in, Miss Granger.' The way he said her name sent an enticing curl through her.

He paced through his house. 'I'm in my study today. I hope that is alright?'

'Of course.'

He led her to a smaller room than before, lined from floor to ceiling with books. There were piles of documents on the floor and various photographs and portraits adorning the few free spaces. Most were of Draco as a child. Narcissa was in none.

'I apologise for the clutter. I try to keep the rest of the house tidy, but this is my final sanctuary. I don't allow the elves in here so it's down to me. And, as you can see, I have rather failed.' He smirked over at her and she returned it.

She was thrilled that he was allowing her in here, could scarcely believe it. 'Are you sure it's OK for me to be here?'

'Hmm. Sit down.' Lucius barely registered her hesitation and pulled out an arm chair for her, sitting himself in the hard wooden seat at his desk.

'Do you have to report back every week?'

'No. Only occasionally. But I take notes on all meetings.'

'Draco has been assigned Neville Longbottom.'

Hermione couldn't help smiling. 'Is he alright with that?'

'I think so. He doesn't talk about it much, but they seem to have managed not to kill each other yet.'

She laughed. Lucius smiled too. She bent and took out her notebook. 'You know I have to show evidence that you have completely renounced your past beliefs and allegiances.'

'Hmm. I would have thought that what I said yesterday would have helped with that.'

'The mere fact that you can sit comfortably with me helps with that, Lucius.'

He looked up sharply, making her blush.

'Sorry ... _Mr Malfoy.'_

'No ... don't be silly. You may call me whatever comes naturally to you.'

Her blush deepened, but not this time with shame. 'Well ... same for you ... 'Miss Granger' makes me feel like I'm still at school.'

His mouth curled up.

'I need to ask you some questions. Some of them may not be easy.'

'Very well.'

Hermione flipped through her notebook distractedly before lifting her eyes and meeting his. 'When did you first start to doubt your allegiance to Voldemort?'

He flinched. 'Strange isn't it? Even now ... I do not like to hear that name.'

'You should say it out loud.'

'Confront the fear head on?'

'Yes.'

He dropped his head with a smirk. 'Perhaps another time.' Lucius sighed before continuing. 'When I was in Azkaban ... I had time to think – in between the various _activities_ my fellow prison mates arranged for me – at first my anger was directed entirely towards Potter and his cohorts ...'

'Including me?'

'Oh yes ... including you.' His voice reminded her of more sinister times. A shiver passed over her.

'But ... as time passed and the abuse to my person and my sanity continued, I focused entirely on my son. I feared for him for the first time ever. I feared that the path he was treading, the path I had forced him down, would lead him to a similar fate as mine.'

Lucius was staring into the room, his eyes bright but unfocused. His face had an austere beauty which staggered her.

'But ... I still hated Potter and all he stood for. I still stood by the Dark Lord, lived in hope, in expectation that he would come for me. And come for me he did.'

'You must have been euphoric.'

'I was too exhausted to be euphoric. And any delight I may have felt quickly evaporated on returning here. The place had been overrun, desecrated, stripped. I did not recognise it as home. And ... I found little comfort in anything ... nothing was familiar. I so longed for familiarity of the past. And it had gone.'

'Your wife was here.'

He glanced sidelong at her, quickly and furtively. 'Like I said ... I found little comfort in anything. But I still clung to him. What else could I do? I knew my life was hanging by a thread. He humiliated me, taunted me in front of the others, in front of my wife and child. I almost longed to return to Azkaban. All I had held dear in the past ... now it simply seemed so empty, so brittle. If I thought too long about them, the ideas would fragment and shatter in my mind. I was in turmoil and presented only a shell of who I had been. But I could do nothing but keep going. That is how I did it. Pathetic, I know.'

'You are very honest with me.'

He shrugged. 'Why not? What more do I have? You listen. And you have accepting eyes.'

She stuttered. 'What?'

'Your eyes. They listen well.' He smiled a little.

There was a brief silence. Hermione took in a deep breath and had to look away. Her eyes fell on a book resting two shelves up, nestled in amongst other volumes. She laughed aloud in surprise. 'You have _Magicke of Truest Crafte_!'

Lucius followed her gaze. 'Hmm. It's been in the family for centuries.' He reached up and took the thin volume down. _Magicke of Truest Crafte _was an intricate and valued Medieval spellbook, almost mythical in its rarity.

'I'm speechless,' breathed Hermione, aglow with delight.

'Here. Have a look.' And Lucius reached across and offered the book to her. She was delirious. Even she felt almost unworthy of this Pureblood handing her, a Muggle-born, a volume of such mystical significance and heritage. But her curiosity overrode all else and she took the volume tenderly in her hands, her eyes poring over the beautiful gilded detailing on the leather cover, her fingertips questing with awed reverence over the intricate magic set out inside.

'This is amazing. What a wonderful, wonderful thing. Thank you for letting me see it.' She glanced up. Lucius was staring at her intently, his expression calm but curious. She held his gaze for a time with a warm, appreciative smile.

'I have many other volumes which may be of interest to you.'

She laughed. 'I'm only here to fulfil your programme, Lucius. I shouldn't allow myself to get distracted. Here you go.' She handed the book back. 'It's enough just to have held it. You can feel the magic coursing through your fingers, can't you?'

'Indeed.' He was still looking at her.

They continued their session for a while longer, completely relaxed it seemed to Hermione. She couldn't deny it; she liked him. She was amazed she liked him, but she did.

As she left that day, Hermione once again was departing happier than she had arrived. But her mind urged caution. He said all the right things, he behaved impeccably towards her. Was it genuine? This was Lucius Malfoy, after all. He would be doing it to avoid Azkaban – to pass the programme, surely. But every minute of her time with him was enriching; it was fascinating and illuminating. Whatever his reasons for behaving this way, Hermione wanted more.

xoOox

The next meeting was similar: easy conversation, meaningful glances, soul-searching confession. It seemed to come entirely naturally. By the end, Hermione was aglow with the satisfaction of it. She walked reluctantly to the main door, unwilling to leave. As she opened the heavy door slowly, she came face to face with Draco on his way in.

His face broke into a broad grin. 'Hello, you. How's it going?'

She smiled. 'OK ... I think. He's very different to how I remember him.'

'Yeah, well ... aren't we all?'

Hermione did up her coat. 'It's all very interesting.'

'Interesting?'

'Yes.'

'Trust you to find my father "interesting".'

'I do. I find him fascinating.'

Draco scoffed.

'I think he's re-evaluating his life for the first time ever,' she continued. 'He has to, and it's not something he's comfortable with, but he has to do it as he can't possibly base it on his previous standards as they simply don't exist anymore, for him or his world. I think it's taking him by surprise as much as me.'

'Well – good luck with it.'

'He's being very open. I find it strange. He must still hate all I stand for.'

'Not anymore. I don't think he's got much hate left in him. Hasn't got much of anything left in him. When mother left that was it really. The last straw. He just gave up.'

Hermione's heart constricted to hear him say it. 'He's got you.'

'Yeah.'

'It's very good of you to be here for him.'

Draco smiled gently and pushed his hands into his pockets. 'He's my dad. I love him, even though he's probably the worst role model ever.'

Her heart tightened further, prompting her to smile and reach out a hand to Lucius' son. She stroked up his arm in acknowledgement of his sentiment.

Draco glanced at her hand and moved quickly to take it. His thumb grazed over the tops of her fingers. 'Hermione ...'

She raised her eyes to his. _Would it be so bad to fall for him a little? _But she wasn't falling for him. She swallowed hard, suddenly guilty of her lack of feelings

_Could__ she feel something?_

She loved coming to this house, loved being amidst the family history and the family culture and ...

Hermione turned away, withdrawing her hand from his, and the guilt sank deeper still. Someone was compelling her to return here with passionate force, but it wasn't Draco.

'Sorry.' He coughed to cover his embarrassment.

'It's OK.'

'We could ... go for a drink some time ... a meal if you want.'

Her first instinct was to run. But then the emotion of the last few days overwhelmed her. And so Hermione did something, perhaps in denial, perhaps in shame.

'Yes. OK.'

xoOox

They arranged the meal for the following Friday. They would meet in a popular Muggle restaurant in central London. As the time approached Hermione grew increasingly apprehensive. She fretted over clothes, trying to find something which would not flatter her too much.

But her mind chided her. Draco would make a good boyfriend. He was no longer recognisable as the person she had hated as a child; he had been through similar torments to her and had grown into an admirable man. He was the right age. He had a good job. He seemed to fancy her. He was good-looking, wasn't he? She really i_should/i_ fancy him.

She sighed, applied the last touches to her make-up, grimacing slightly at the prospect of the evening, and went to meet him.

Dinner was good. Draco had made an effort. He'd had his hair cut and was wearing clothes which smelt of that slightly chemical tang which came straight off the shop floor. He was clearly wearing an expensive cologne – but he'd put on far too much; the smell was overpowering and interfered with her enjoyment of the food. As he drank she glanced at his nails – bitten to the quick.

He talked quickly, muttering about school times, avoiding any confrontational issues, but Hermione often found herself tuning out. She was strangely quiet. There wasn't much she particularly wanted to tell him. She studied his face. With maturity, he had become good-looking, but she didn't find him remotely attractive. She looked at him carefully. He glanced up occasionally and when he noticed her eyes on him, he'd hold hers for a while and his cheeks would redden. But she still looked, almost unaware of it. His eyes were the same grey as his father's but lacked the bright intensity Lucius' contained. Draco's nose was thinner and his face more angular. She wondered if Lucius had looked more like this when he was younger. Lucius' hair was richer and thicker too. Draco was starting to thin on top.

Afterwards they strolled down the nearly empty streets into Green Park to the portkey point which she would take. Alone.

'It's been a great evening, Hermione.'

'Yes. Thank you.'

They walked on a little until they came to an empty champagne glass placed on the edge of a bench.

'Well ... this is me,' she grinned.

He nodded and smiled.

And then he moved in. But instead of reacting by pulling away, she instead wondered: what did a Malfoy kiss like? Do fathers pass on kissing genes to their sons? Perhaps his kiss was similar to his father's. She wanted to find out. She would let the son kiss her.

Hermione stood and waited. She did not encourage it. She did not curl her arms around him as she would to welcome any other lover. She did not open her mouth or dampen her lips. She didn't even smirk in anticipation. She just waited, watching Malfoy lips approaching her.

Draco leaned down and placed his mouth on hers. His lips were warm but thin. She found herself clinically assessing them. She was so detached it was as if she was watching herself from above. He moved his lips and made a slight clucking sound, bringing his hands up to her head and holding her close to him. She hadn't been kissed for a while; it was nice to be kissed again. She thoughtlessly moved her lips under him, and he kissed her harder. She almost started to enjoy it. _Malfoy._ The name pounded irrevocably through her head and she pressed closer against him. Hermione's lips opened instinctively and Draco took immediately, slipping his tongue into her.

She was too polite to refuse him. She let him slide and slip around her for a bit longer, probing and prodding, clearly convinced of his own prowess. It soon became untenable, and with what she thought was a polite puckering peck she ended the kiss.

'I need to get back. I have to work early tomorrow.'

'You could stay with me tonight ... I could take you home.'

He was persisting, kissing down her neck. For someone with such a thin mouth, he was remarkably slobbery. She pushed back on his shoulders. It didn't do much good.

'Home where?'

'To the Manor.'

A vision sprang quickly to mind. She was on a bed being screwed senseless by a Malfoy in Malfoy Manor. Draco was probably envisioning something similar. However, in her vision, it was a different Malfoy.

_God, she wanted good sex. _Perhaps she should just do it and close her eyes and imagine he was someone else. Someone who would only be a few doors away.

But sense hammered its way home at last. She succeeded in pulling him off.

'No, Draco. I have to go.'

Hermione stepped back, putting sufficient distance between them. He looked utterly forlorn. A pang of guilt passed through her. 'I'm sorry. But ... let's just be sensible.'

'I have been sensible. I thought ...'

'It's been a lovely night. Thank you. We'll talk another time. See you soon.'

And she smiled briefly, reached over, grabbed the champagne bottle, and disappeared.

xoOox

Her next appointment with Lucius seemed to approach ridiculously slowly. But the time was filled with meetings and proposals. She was glad to be busy; it helped take her mind off the man she was supposedly mentoring.

And then there was Draco. After their date, she had gone home and washed her face thoroughly; the lingering smell and taste of him tormented her. Not that it was an unpleasant aroma; he was a good-looking man who looked after himself, but the confusion and guilt which wracked Hermione only added to her creeping malaise.

But when she sat opposite Lucius at their next appointment, all her worries dissipated. Draco was forgotten, work was forgotten, even the details of her task with Lucius were forgotten. She simply talked to him and he talked back. The conversation quickly became personal, and Hermione dared test the waters.

'Why did your wife leave you?'

He glanced up sharply and his voice took on an edge of intrigue, but nothing more sinister. 'Does this social rehabilitation programme of yours entitle you to ask personal and intrusive questions?'

'I'm sorry. Forget it.'

But his answer came freely and surprisingly quickly. 'She said she did not recognise the person I now was. I could not disagree with her as I do not recognise the person I now am either.'

Hermione looked gently at him, humbled by his frankness and the relief with which he spoke it. She doubted it was something he confided to many, and was grateful that he could speak so freely to her.

'When did you first notice a change in her attitude?' she asked softly.

'When I returned from Azkaban ... obviously.'

'Did you perceive her differently?'

'Slightly,' he sighed. 'I found more that ...' He broke off. Hermione paused before prompting him.

'Yes?'

'I could not expect her to respect me as ... I did not respect myself.'

'So ... you didn't work at it?' She feared she'd said too much.

He shot her a glance but spat in confirmation, 'No, I did not _work at it_. I ... let her go, if you will. But more. I no longer ...'

'What?'

'I no longer found her attractive.'

A tingle, a shivering force which teased and goaded ran through Hermione. She tried to ignore it. 'If you go through extreme trauma that is understandable. It must be so hard to restart a relationship with anyone.'

He continued openly. 'I still had ... needs ... more than ever in many ways. It was just her. I simply didn't want her in that way anymore. I found her too ... strong, almost, too ... detached from the horror of it all. I admired her immensely in one respect. I wanted to be like her, but I couldn't, and I ended up resenting her for it. She found someone else soon enough. I was almost glad.'

Hermione swallowed. 'Have you had anyone else since?'

'No.'

She hesitated, but her words came out anyway. 'Have you been attracted to anyone?'

He looked up suddenly, fixing his eyes into hers for the longest time. Her cheeks flamed and she gripped the papers before her so hard they were crumpled.

'Like I said, Miss Granger ... I still have needs and I still have desires. In a way, because they are no longer channelled in blind devotion to a despotic tyrant, they are stronger than ever. I find myself ... dreaming ... imagining ... often.'

He continued staring at her, his chest rising and falling fast. She could barely breathe.

'I ... really should be going.' She stood up.

Lucius stood too, blocking her path. 'Really should you?' He was teasing.

'Yes.'

He stared down at her, his eyes more hypnotic than ever, more effective than chains and locks.

'And when am I to expect your return?'

'It should be ... next week but I ... have some spare time ... tomorrow if you like ... 2 o'clock. Shall I come then?' She was breathless, her words pushed out through crippling desire, she could not pretend otherwise. His mouth turned up at the corners.

'Yes. Come then. _Hermione_.'

* * *

**Oh, he's good. x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Onwards. LL x**

* * *

The next day was bright and clear and blew away the oppressive atmosphere of brewing attraction, not to banish it, but to precipitate them towards more. Hermione arrived with a broad grin and immediately announced her intentions.

'We should go and do something more pro-active. It is, after all, supposed to be a community programme. I suppose I should get you out into the community.'

Lucius shrugged mildly. 'I could do with a trip to Diagon Alley. I need some new clothes.'

Hermione smirked, sauntering across to him, aware of how seductive she appeared. 'Oh no, Mr Malfoy. It won't be as easy as that. I intend to take you into the Muggle world.'

For a moment, a familiar look of disdainful Malfoy horror passed across his face. 'Muggle?'

'Yes. Nothing too drastic, don't worry. Trip to the coast maybe, nice bite to eat somewhere. What do you reckon?'

He grimaced. 'I don't 'reckon' at all. It sounds most disagreeable.'

But his manner did not suggest he was unwilling. She was decided. 'Rubbish. It's a great day. Come on, I know just the place. We can Apparate close by. Go and put something on to make you look a little less ... wizardy.' She grinned wickedly and swept out to wait in the hall.

He appeared several minutes later, clearly self-conscious. She found it ridiculously endearing. But he needn't have worried; his clothes suited him well. He was still dressed entirely in black – some habits were hard to break – but he had on informal trousers and a black shirt with the top two buttons undone. He approached her, motioning vaguely over his body, his face pinked on the rise of his cheekbones.

'Do I ... these clothes ... are they ...?'

'Perfect. You may want a warm coat. And maybe tie your hair back and tuck it into your collar.'

His face creased in disapproval.

'Lucius ... your hair will make you stand out. If you don't want Muggles gawping at you, you should do it.'

He pouted a little. 'I didn't used to mind being gawped at.'

'I know you didn't,' she smirked.

'But not by Muggles.'

He too was smirking now as he put on a dark wool overcoat. She wanted to rush over and take his hand and leave with him like he was her lover. Instead, she put her head down and paced quickly past him out of the door, calling behind, 'Come on.'

She Apparated them both to a beach in Cornwall, somewhere she had come recently with cousins. It was not busy at this time of year, but was phenomenally beautiful. The broad, golden beach had a matted lustre to it under the grey, winter sky, and the cresting waves fell with ceaseless reassurance on the sand, dragging the tide up the beach with them. Hermione stared out to sea, her hair whipping around her face. There was a cafe nestled in the dunes, which served hot soup and crusty bread and homemade cakes, popular with the surfers who braved the swell no matter the weather.

Lucius followed her into the cafe where they sat in a corner, staring out at the ocean's relentless beauty. She had soup. He had a steak sandwich.

They talked, easily and freely. Sometimes they talked seriously about the war and Voldemort and Hogwarts. Sometimes they talked as any people at ease with each other would talk, remarking on people passing by, on a familiar place, a mutual acquaintance. Sometimes they were silent, but their silences were not awkward; there were no moments when the seconds stretched out to tease and taunt their incompatibility. They were not incompatible. Hermione leaned into him occasionally, naturally and spontaneously, and he did not shy away from it.

And sometimes they laughed. The sound of Lucius Malfoy laughing – a deep, low chuckle which brightened his face – gave Hermione a rush of exhilaration.

'I'm going to get a coffee – the waitress isn't paying attention; I'll go to her. Do you want anything?'

He shook his head.

Hermione approached the counter. 'Can I get a latte, please?'

'Sure,' replied the pretty young woman, turning her large eyes towards Lucius. 'Anything for your boyfriend?'

'My boyfriend?'

'Yeah – the guy you're with.'

'Oh.' Hermione flushed. 'He's not my boyfriend.'

'Oh. Right.' The waitress sounded less than convinced.

'Why did you say that?' Hermione asked with a curious smile.

'Sorry. No business of mine. I just assumed. You're very easy with each other. You just seemed to be together. You look good together.'

'No, we're ... just ... working together.'

'I see.' She smirked, glancing over at Lucius. 'Can I have him then?'

Hermione took the latte quickly. 'No.'

Returning to the table, she sat down with a barely concealed grin.

'Something to smile about?'

'Something.' She looked to him and smiled. 'This has been OK, hasn't it?'

'Hmm.'

'Better than Azkaban?'

He stared out of the window, his face intensely sincere. 'The opposite to Azkaban. Azkaban removes happiness and warmth. This has given happiness.'

Her heart juddered. Instinctively and unstoppably, Hermione reached over and ran a finger over one of his. At first he did nothing but turn to look down at it. Still she stroked, registering the warm strength contained in the long digit. But then he tensed and pulled his hand away. 'Sorry,' she muttered, flustered.

He fell silent and she could hear his breath coming fast. But then his own long, warm finger came over and touched hers, very softly, lightly, but enough to cause her belly to writhe. Lucius spoke. 'Draco ...' She closed her eyes. '... likes you very much.'

Hermione released a deep sigh and hung her head.

'He thinks you feel the same,' continued Lucius.

She pulled her hand through her hair. 'He's become a good friend ... not something I ever thought I'd say.'

'No more than a friend?'

'Not for me.'

'He feels more than that. He _wants_ more than that.'

'I know.'

They were silent before Lucius said, 'Have _I _become a good friend?'

She turned her head and looked into the brilliant grey of his, the same grey she had been mesmerised by when she first returned to Malfoy Manor. Hermione nodded, slowly, holding his eyes.

A weight pressed in on her; she struggled to pull in breath. He was so close and real and firm beside her. _Right beside her._ She only had to reach out a hand and she could touch him and feel that realness. She wanted to touch him so much. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him the way his son wanted to kiss her.

Lucius' tongue flitted out briefly, moistening his lips. He made a move closer to her, leaning in. She could see only him.

'Can I get you anything else at all?'

Hermione looked up, startled, ready to murder the person interrupting them. It was the same waitress she had seen at the counter. She grinned at Hermione before turning her flirtatious smile to Lucius. 'Nice hot chocolate, perhaps? Make you feel all snugly on a cold day?'

Lucius stood abruptly. 'No, thank you. That will be all. How much?'

'I'll get your bill.' She turned with a final look into his eyes and sashayed away on heels which surely weren't suitable for a job which kept you on your feet all day. Hermione sneered at her retreating back.

She stood up. 'Stupid cow.'

'Why's that?'

'Never mind.'

He glanced at her and smiled very slightly. She blushed red. 'We should go. I'll pay. It goes on expenses as part of your programme.'

'Part of my programme ...' he mused. 'Is that what this was?'

'That was the intention,' Hermione murmured.

'Let me pay.' And before she knew it he'd marched over to the counter and settled up.

When Lucius returned he helped her on with her coat. 'You didn't have to do that,' she smiled. 'Thank you.'

'Come along.'

Outside, the wind was blowing bitter off the Atlantic and Hermione huddled into herself, wishing more than anything that she could nestle against the tall form of the man beside her and be folded into his dark cashmere coat.

'Are you cold?' he asked.

'Hmm.'

Looking down, Lucius extended the crook of his arm. Hermione pushed her hand through it, allowing her body to rest partly along his. It retained an air of formality but sent a surge of coursing heat through her. His forearm was hard and strong, even through the thick material of his coat. She held it tight.

They walked silently along the beach back to a secluded Apparation point. At the moment before he muttered the spell, Hermione feared she may kiss him. But she didn't.

xoOox

She couldn't sleep.

_What the hell was happening? _

She fancied Lucius Malfoy. She wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting a man.

_Lucius. Malfoy._ Burying her head under the duvet, she tried to block out the terrifying reality of her thoughts.

He was the last man on earth she should be thinking of. He was under her supervision; he had been her bitter enemy; he had stood for everything she detested.

But now ... She adored their conversations, she admired his re-appraisal, she understood his shift in self-perception. She simply wanted to be with him.

And she wanted to kiss him.

And at this precise moment she could think only of kissing him. Endlessly, as she tried to slip into sleep, her mind presented her with an image of him leaning into her in the cafe and kissing her in full view of all the diners, pulling her against him on the beach, taking her head in his hands and lowering his mouth to hers, striding up to her when she next visited the Manor and kissing her immediately and powerfully in the hallway.

It was ludicrous. She mustn't want him. She _couldn't _want him.

Her phone pinged with a text. A mobile phone was a Muggle luxury at which most wizards and witches scoffed derisively, through ignorance rather than a valid refutation. But Hermione wasn't one for scoffing. She used hers to keep in touch with Muggle friends and to communicate with Harry regularly.

She glanced at the screen. This text was not from Harry.

_- How about a drink next Friday? D - _

Hermione swore aloud. She'd forgotten she'd given Draco her number.

For a while she simply stared at the message, at a loss to know what to do.

She was so fucking confused. And confusion led to guilt. And guilt led to her fingers tapping out a reply.

- OK. I'm working with your dad until 7. Could go after that. Where do u fancy? –

_- The Leaping Hart? I'll meet you at the Manor after you've finished with Father. –_

- Good idea. C u at the house. H –

_- Great. x –_

Shit. He'd put a kiss.

She threw down her phone. _What the hell?_ Was she masking her true feelings? Using Draco to get to his father? Simply in denial about the whole fucking mess?

She barely slept. In her erratic dreams Draco was trying to kiss her. She tried to kiss him back, eyes shut in her dream, but whenever she did, she'd open them only to find herself instead kissing his father.

xoOox

She met with Lucius throughout the week. Officially, of course.

Only it didn't feel official. It never did. They talked. And now they would go for walks, venturing into Muggle towns. Luckily for her, it was part of the community programme. It didn't go as far as cleaning off graffiti or sweeping the streets, but the Death Eaters had to prove that they could interact with Muggles safely and without prejudice. There was no longer any doubt that this was not an issue for Lucius. She wondered occasionally if he would be the same if she wasn't there to monitor, but Lucius was relaxed and unfazed at all times. Much had clearly come from exhaustion and disenchantment at the hands of Voldemort, but whatever had wrought the change, she would support and encourage him. She longed to.

This day was no different. She was glad the heady tension which had pervaded the day on the beach had dissipated a little, but now they were simply so happy in each other's presence that she could almost believe they were in a relationship. They chatted. She laughed a lot. He managed to smirk frequently. She adored his smirks. Before they had inspired intimidated hatred, now they caused her belly to jerk with optimistic lust.

As usual their time together passed too quickly. Hermione's days were busy. She spent her life Apparating to and from meetings and symposiums and interviews. Moments with Lucius were ridiculously precious. But tonight was different. It was Friday. Her time with him was cut short due to the date with his son. She'd arranged to leave with Draco from the Manor after her meeting with Lucius. With a sigh, she stood to leave.

'We're going to have to call it a day. Never seem to have enough time with you,' she smiled cautiously.

Lucius looked at her calmly. She allowed the silence between them to knit a warm blanket of contentment.

She packed away as slowly as she could.

'Draco tells me you're seeing him tonight.'

His sudden disclosure threw her. She'd hoped to keep it from him. He didn't sound aggrieved, merely calmly curious. 'Umm ... well ... we're meeting for a bit ... just to catch up ...'

'That will be nice, I'm sure.'

_Would it? _'Yes.'

'He talks about you a lot.'

She did not want to be having this conversation. 'Oh.'

'I told you that he likes you,' continued Lucius smoothly, his tone betraying nothing.

'Well ... I told him I like him. Sort of.'

'So?'

'So what?'

'Why don't you want to take it further?'

She eyed him cautiously. 'Wouldn't you object?'

'Why would I object?'

_Because__ you__ want me._'Because ... he's your son and I'm ...' She threw her head back and sighed aloud.

'What are you?'

'I'm Muggle-born.'

He stood quickly and paced across to her, clearly annoyed. 'You know that is irrelevant to me now. I see only -' Lucius broke off.

She searched his eyes, daring him to voice it. She wanted to grab hold of him and take all he was. 'What do you see, Lucius?'

His eyes pored over her face, his breath falling rapid onto her. 'I see only ...'

'Hermione!'

It was Draco, calling from the hall. 'You ready?' Footsteps approached the sitting room.

She pulled back quickly. 'Coming!'

Without looking at Lucius, Hermione dropped her head and hurried out to meet his son.

xoOox

The evening was very agreeable.

_Agreeable_. That was the word which seemed to sum up Hermione's assessment. It was a word her mother would use after the compulsory Boxing Day visit to Great Aunt Patricia. Great Aunt Patricia was pleasant enough and her Christmas leftovers were better than most, but it was never a day of great thrills.

Agreeable. Draco was agreeable. No more.

But as they walked along the river afterwards, Hermione was content enough. And drunk enough. She stopped and leaned on the railings for a while, breathing in the crisp night air deeply. Draco moved in closer, putting an arm around her. She didn't stop him.

A strong arm pulled her round and two hands slipped down to hold her waist. With a Rioja-infused grin, she turned her face up to him. She smelt his own soft, gin-caressed breath ... sweet.

'Hermione ... you're so beautiful.'

Now he stroked down her face tenderly. With any other man she would have responded. It was a soft touch, his fingers were smooth and warm, his body hard and firm before her. But the alcohol had not debilitated her enough. Her response now, although not antagonistic, came rather from habit than attraction. She should do this. She must do this. Lucius wanted her to do this. She smiled gently, knowing it would encourage Draco.

Draco bent his head and kissed her. It was nice, a bit like kisses at a school dance: desperate to pretend you're good at it, enjoying it because it's new and naughty, even though at heart you're hoping to do a lot better at a later date with someone else you fancy more.

Draco broke away to whisper in her ear, 'Come back to the Manor with me.'

'Uh huh ...' she murmured. It wasn't exactly a firm affirmation, but he took it as such. His grip on her waist tightened and Hermione immediately felt the dizzying pull of Apparation. When she opened her eyes she recognised the imposing surroundings of the library of Malfoy Manor. She wasn't sure why Draco had chosen this particular room. Perhaps he thought she needed books to turn her on. She stifled a giggle and soon found herself being pawed once again. Still, she seemed to be in the mood for a little pawing. The wine had relaxed her, and her sexually frustrated body overrode her emotions. He immediately attached his mouth to hers again. She opened to him and let him deepen the kiss. His tongue soon slid into her pliant mouth. Instinctively, at the intrusion, she began to back away but was able to stop herself. He kissed her hard, working his tongue in dizzying circles, grinding his lips against her. A hand slipped down and her right breast was soon gripped in strong fingers. She would have pushed him off if his thumb hadn't rubbed over her nipple. With mild surprise, she realised it was working. But then she could never resist attention to her pert little breasts and found herself instinctively pushing into his searching hands.

Hermione wanted to want him, _needed_ to want him. If she could have him she wouldn't want his father ... would she? Letting her mind fog, she tried to allow desire to rise in her. The attention to her breasts was helping somewhat, and Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair and held him tighter against her. Her other hand moved down over his firm torso with languid seduction; she knew it would work – it usually did. Draco pulled back with a sharp suck of breath, his eyes glazed, his lips darker than ever.

'Sweet, sweet Hermione. Want you so much. Can't believe how much I want you.'

And then his hand was slipping up under her dress and pushing aside the thin band of her underwear. She gasped, not through pleasure but shock. Despite managing to drum up attraction for this man, she was not ready for this sudden invasion of her body. But Draco reached down to kiss her again and there was gentle need in his kiss. She relaxed and allowed him to discover her.

His fingers moved quickly, not skilfully, but with a rough intuition. She knew she wasn't very wet, but Hermione's sexual need was such that he was able to quest over her smoothly. His tongue was plunging in and out of her mouth now and his fingers mimicked it, probing into her pussy with perfunctory thrusts.

He pulled away and moaned into her ear, 'Do you like that?'

She chose to give a non-committal groan in response.

'I want you to come. I want you to come for me,' came his slurred need.

She wanted to as well, but at this rate it wasn't going to happen.

Hermione tried so hard. His fingers were now at least grazing her clit and if her heart had been in it she probably would have climaxed.

She held him close, willing him to touch her properly, willing herself to relax.

She was going to have to fake it. Her flesh was starting to ache. She wanted it to end.

And then Hermione glanced up. Standing half in the doorway, half masked behind it, she saw him.

Lucius was staring across at her, his face solemn, his eyes grave but still alight with that spark of brilliance.

Hermione looked into him. He did not move.

And instead of crying out, pushing his son away and covering herself in shame, her arms curled around Draco and she held his head tight down against her.

Not removing her gaze from his father, she lifted her leg and curled it around the son, giving him better access.

Draco stifled a moan. A gush of wetness had moistened her suddenly; his fingers glided smoothly, her clit swelled with renewed fervour.

Lucius stood stock still, his eyes fixed on her, only on her. She clung to the body working her, but knew only the man in the doorway.

She was rising; her body was prickling at last, mounting to that moment of sweet, sharp climax. Still she stared at Lucius, locked into the ferocious brightness of his eyes.

And then, with a sudden cry, harsh and gasping, she came. Pleasure ripped through her and she let it take. She gave it to him. She gave it to Lucius.

And then he was gone. Like a spectre within his own house, he passed from her view. Her body, already limp with orgasm, slumped yet more.

'Fuck, Hermione. You are the sweetest thing. Need you. Please, let me come into you.'

Draco was releasing himself. She glanced down and saw the bulge in his trousers. His fingers were fumbling for the buttons. Hermione panicked.

'Draco ... I ... that was really nice but I ... don't want ...'

A look of despair crossed his face. 'What? Come on ... please ... look at this.'

He'd taken it out and was stroking hard along the rigid flesh. Hermione forced herself not to turn away in horror. It was not a small penis and rose up smooth and proud; at any other time she would have been desperate for something like it inside her, but now she only wanted to turn and flee.

He was trying to nudge her to sit on the desk behind her, pushing her legs apart, pulling at her knickers.

'Draco ... have you got a condom?'

His face looked panicked. 'Umm ... I ... shit, no, I thought maybe you'd ... aren't you protected?'

''Fraid not.' She was lying. Hermione was in fact on the Muggle pill and in addition had administered a contraceptive charm. 'We'd better not ... not tonight.'

Devastation captured Draco and he continued almost distractedly stroking his prick. A sweep of shame overcame Hermione. He had, after all, been attentive to her. Her sense of fair play couldn't allow her to leave, as much as she wanted to. Stifling a sigh, she stepped in and spat on her hand before wrapping his stiff penis in her fingers.

Immediately, his head fell back and he groaned aloud. She wondered if Lucius had heard.

Working him hard and fast, not looking at her handiwork, she stared determinedly over his shoulder, desperate to finish him fast.

'Fuck, that's so good, that's so good. There, right there. Hard.'

She stroked and smoothed and plied his flesh with skilled fingers and palm, knowing that even in her haste she was bloody good at it. God, she wished he'd hurry up and come.

She worked her hand, curling tight around him, long up and down the shaft, then, when she felt his breath catching and his muscles clenched, she pumped the head hard and waited for his release. Moving deftly out of the way at just the right moment, Hermione glanced down at the bulbous head of Draco's cock to see his come burst out three times, each shot accompanied by a guttural groan. His semen splattered onto the side of the table and dripped ignominiously in thick white globs onto the floor. It turned her stomach.

'Fuck, thank you, thank you, that was amazing. Next time ... I'll be better prepared,' he grinned.

She didn't respond.

'Stay the night. We don't have to do anything ... well ... not much,' he smiled.

'Draco ... I'm going to go home.'

His face fell. 'Are you?'

'Yeah, I ... have a meeting first thing. I'd better go.'

'Well ... OK ... if you're sure.' He ran a hand dejectedly through his hair. 'Thanks for ... this.' After tucking himself away he reached in to kiss her again. She obliged, but now his lips tasted bitter on her mouth. She pulled back.

'Bye, Draco.'

As she went out to the hallway, Hermione noticed a light coming from Lucius' study. She paused, her feet itching to take her in. She heard the rustle of paper.

But she turned and walked away, her feet clicking on the wooden floor. She shut the front door firmly and audibly behind her.

* * *

**Oh, oh, oh, oh ...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Three things: Firstly, this is not a Dramione. Hermione and Lucius are a little confused, and unfortunately, Draco is mixed up in their confusion. This story hardly has a sad ending, but if you want me to go easy on Draco, look away now. I mean, I'm not horrendous to the poor boy, but I know who I'd rather have.**

**Secondly, I had forgotten quite how flippin' hot some of these moments are. Even make my eyes water. **

**Thirdly, I split this chapter in a different place to where I'd envisaged due to aforementioned hotness. There was so much hotness that it was making my keyboard melt. So I've saved the next dose of scorchio for the next chapter.**

* * *

She felt no shame at what had taken place. It may have been Draco on her body, but it was Lucius who had brought her pleasure, and he knew it too.

She came as usual for their appointment the following week and was directed to his study.

Lucius was sorting through what appeared to be old photographs. He barely looked up when she entered but spoke, his voice calm and considered. 'As I grow older I find myself retreating deeper into the past. Curious, isn't it? ... Not that my past is worth retreating into.'

'I'm sure much of it is.' She hesitated at the door. Would he not acknowledge what had happened? Perhaps that was for the best.

He picked up a photo and smiled softly, reassuring her of normality. Hermione closed the door and approached him, glancing at the picture. In it she could see two girls swinging from a tree.

'Who are they?'

'My mother and her sister when they were children. They were very close.'

'They look very happy.'

'Yes.'

She took a step into him. 'Did you have a happy childhood, Lucius?'

'Intermittently.' He tidied away the photos with sudden urgency. 'You left quickly last time you were here.'

His abrupt change of subject caused her insides to lurch. 'Yes.'

'Why?'

She turned away, not answering his question. 'Is he here?'

'Draco? No.'

Hermione began to fuss with her bag, sitting down and getting out her documents. 'We should start our session. I have to report back to the Ministry tomorrow on your progress.'

'He needs you.'

She closed her eyes. 'Don't.'

'You would be good for him. You would be _wonderful _for him. And he would be good to you.' Lucius spoke with no conviction, as if he was reciting a list in his mind, as if he was trying to convince himself.

'Stop it, Lucius. _Stop it.'_ Hermione stood and turned for the door, needing to escape the oppressive tension.

With unfeasible swiftness he crossed to her and gripped her wrist hard in his fingers. She turned and met with his eyes, brutal and beautiful.

And it was happening.

They moved into each other at the same time, a desperate meeting of lips and hands and bodies, needing to connect, needing to come together. His kiss seared, instantly lifting her from reality, instantly confirming that this was right, that this was the truth.

Lucius' fingers held her head firmly, preventing her from moving from him, and he plundered her mouth with unfettered finesse, his tongue exploring and searching and beguiling, his lips burning.

Hermione clasped him to her, wanting to disappear through him, wanting to be absorbed into him, his smell and his touch and his sound all perfection. She was scrabbling at his clothes, trying to gain purchase on them and eliminate them at the same time. In the moments their mouths came apart she kissed any part of him she could whether clothed or not. Then gripping her hard on her backside, he lifted her onto his desk, scattering photos and parchments in the process, not noticing or caring. She lay back across it and instinctively wriggled out of her underwear, feeling his hands aiding its dismissal. Her legs fell apart for him and he pushed them wider yet. Lucius' eyes fell to her sex and drank in the sight before him, but he could not prevent the unstoppable surge of need which overtook them both.

Grabbing for his buckles, he freed himself quickly. Hermione almost sobbed. Never had she wanted a cock in her so much. It was long and thick and so hard it barely swayed as he brought it towards her.

He positioned himself, then looked back up to her and thrust. He rose up into her to the hilt in one drive with a groan of immense satisfaction.

Hermione's back buckled immediately but she pressed forward to keep him as deep within her as she could.

They took a moment to absorb it: completion at last attained. But he needed to move, and with long strokes which thrilled her, he fucked her steadily and perfectly, settling into a rhythm reflected in the connection they maintained with their eyes.

'Lucius ...' she murmured, wanting to confirm his reality.

He merely moaned as she clenched upon him and, lifting her leg, he focused on coaxing pleasure from them both. Long fingers found her clit and nuzzled and rubbed so perfectly she nearly came instantly. But she wanted to wait. She wanted to wait for him. He stared down at her, his face almost malevolent in its surety. But his eyes never strayed from hers, never lost that affirmation of desire.

She noticed his mouth moving. He was murmuring, speaking half in thoughts to himself. In the midst of her mounting pleasure, she strained to hear him. 'Perfect, perfect, perfect ...'

Hermione gripped him with her body, holding him within the velvet glove of her flesh. His face creased, his mouth opened to gasp in air. And as he burst into her with a cry from deep in his being, she let herself come at last. She came strong and fast, her orgasm tearing through her body, focused on the hard flesh filling her with the thick white heat of potent come.

Lucius slumped down onto her sated body, panting hard. She clung to him, unwilling to let him go.

They stayed like that, unspeaking, Hermione stroking over his hair, until the objects on the desk asserted their presence and dug painfully into her back.

'Ow.'

He glanced up, smirking and planting a tender kiss on her smiling mouth before pulling back.

'I think possibly that confirms your success under the community service programme, Mr Malfoy.'

'Is that what I have to do to get a clean report?'

'Hmm ... you might just have to do it again ...' She kissed him. '... and again ... and again ... and again ...'

He stared down, his face reflective and gentle, so different to how she had ever before imagined him. _Such a beautiful face._

'Why don't I take you to bed?' he smiled.

'You can take me wherever you want, whenever you want.'

Lucius stood, slipping out of her and pulling her carefully from the desk. Holding her hand, he led her through the house up the stairs until they came to a large but surprisingly cosy bedroom. Standing her in the middle of the room, he began carefully, almost systematically, to remove her clothing. But it was done with such aching adoration that Hermione wanted to melt into him yet again.

She started, 'You really are the –'

Lucius placed a finger on her lips and raised an eyebrow in caution. She shut up.

As her body was revealed to him he stared at it with sheer wonder but never once lost focus on his task. When she at last stood naked and ready before him, he applied himself to removing his own clothes. Hermione could only gawp. His torso was slender but toned, lean but hard with straining muscle – the perfect body. She ached to lick it. She wanted to touch and hold it too, but her first thought was only to lick and suck on every inch of it.

'I want you again,' she said quickly before he was able to silence her again.

He stepped forward, his mouth curled into a smirk, and drawled down, 'How similar we are, Miss Granger. Because it just so happens that I too want you again.'

She glanced down. Sure enough he was already swelling and rising towards her. Curling her arms around his neck, she pulled him down for a kiss. He walked her backwards until she fell onto the bed. Placing her legs over his shoulders, Lucius sank deep into her body. And there he stayed for most of the rest of the day and the following night.

xoOox

They carried on talking the next day, although now, instead of eyeing each other across a desk, they lay lazily in bed, their limbs curled languidly about each other.

'What about Draco?' asked Hermione, soft with apprehension.

'I don't know.'

'You said he and I would be good together.'

'You would.'

'But I want you, not him. And I hope, judging on your rather virtuosic display over the last twenty-four hours, that you want me. He thinks he and I are together.' She sighed, her heart heavy. 'I'll have to tell him.'

'About us?'

'I can't do that. I'll just tell him I can't go on with him.'

Lucius paused. 'I want him to be happy.'

Hermione moved her head up to look at him. 'Lucius ... you can't have it both ways. And I don't care about him in that way. Whenever he touches me, all I can think about is you. That time ...'

'When?'

'You know ... in the library. I only climaxed because you were staring at me.'

He stroked her arm distractedly, 'I couldn't stop. I wanted to see you come. I wanted to hear you. It was curious – I didn't see you with Draco. I just saw ... you ... but at the same time, I was so enthralled to see you in the hands of a man.'

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, desolate. 'I really don't think I can bear telling him yet.'

'He'll be devastated when you do.'

Hermione fell back onto the bed in despair. 'Everything's happening at once and I just seem to be swept along on this flooding rush of emotion. I want you. I want you. I just want you. But ... I can't face letting him down. It's too much.'

Lucius ran a single finger-tip over her belly in an ever-growing spiral. 'I don't want you to let him down either.'

She arched towards his touch, trying to force reason back to her mind, knowing she was failing. 'But ... this is crazy. It's completely crazy, Lucius. He's your son.'

'Exactly.' It was Lucius' turn to sigh. 'I used to think I knew all the answers. Not any longer.'

'If I carry on with him he's going to expect me to sleep with him properly. I'm not some born-again virgin ... I don't see how I can justify not having sex any longer.'

Lucius hesitated only briefly. 'You'll have to do it then.'

She frowned across at him. 'How can you say that?'

'I don't know ... but I just have.' His voice was strangely dispassionate but did nothing to anger her.

'And what about us?'

'We ... carry on.'

And as he slipped down her body and his tongue circled her clit, he already was.

xoOox

And so Hermione began a curious life. In the day she would work, either at the Ministry or at the Manor, continuing Lucius' 'rehabilitation'. It often involved sex. In the evenings she would sometimes go out with Draco and at night she'd return to his father's bed.

She liked Draco, there was no doubt, and, curiously, the more time she spent with his father, the more she found him attractive, although she knew it was the association with Lucius which fired it.

For his part, Draco was clearly smitten. He rarely took his eyes from her, but his awkward self-consciousness had faded and she found him good-humoured and easy to talk to. But something was missing – it always would be – she wasn't quite sure what, but she knew that he would not last, with or without the presence of Lucius. But for now, if she couldn't lead an open relationship with his father, he was good company.

Guilt rarely played a part when they were together, but once she'd said goodbye and seen the optimistic shine in his eyes when arranging the next date, shame crushed down on her, especially when thinking about what she was about to do. She would take the floo back to her flat, but almost immediately would Apparate straight back into his father's bedroom. Nearly every night was now spent with Lucius lavishing adoration on every inch of her body. And when pleasure raged through her, even the shame evaporated.

Draco had not pressured her into sex, and for that she respected him immensely. They kissed a lot. And she had to admit she rather enjoyed it. He had touched her and even got as far as nuzzling her nipples, something Hermione could never resist, and she had allowed herself to come again. She'd somehow managed to get away without returning the favour but knew it couldn't go on.

One night, as the freezing dank of winter at last seemed to be replaced by the fresh new aromas of spring, she found herself once again walking with the younger Malfoy through London. They had been to a Muggle restaurant near Covent Garden, and Hermione had drunk more than she intended. Lucius was away for two days and she was missing him more than she thought possible. Draco had been a good distraction. She linked arms with him as they walked along Drury Lane.

'I'm staying up in town tonight.'

She knew where this was going. They had never stayed the night together.

'Do you want to come back to my place?'

She wanted to go back to the Manor and be taken very hard by his father. Instead, she was holding the pleasingly firm forearm of the son.

'OK.'

Draco stopped abruptly and looked down with clear surprise etched onto his features. 'Are you sure?'

'I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want to.'

The broadest grin she'd ever seen broke across his face. Her stomach churned with bitter shame yet again, but when he kissed her – and he was turning into a remarkably good kisser – it was brushed away with firm and ardent lips.

His flat was not far. _If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly._ Once inside the door, Hermione was determined. She dragged off his jacket and kissed him with staggeringly deep sensuality, splaying a hand into the small of his back to press his burgeoning cock harder against her, running her leg around the back of his like a lioness claiming her prey.

'Hermione ...' he breathed, scrabbling unsuccessfully at her clothing. She quickly set about stripping them off her and him. '... I didn't think you'd ever ...'

She silenced him with another kiss and when her hand reached into his jeans and closed around his erection, she banished his doubt.

Hermione dragged him back into the flat. She didn't have a clue where she was going and hoped to end up in the bedroom. Her lust needed addressing, and the thought of this new Malfoy body was suddenly potently appealing. She didn't find the bedroom, but fell back upon a sofa, shedding the rest of her clothes in the process and arching towards him, her body seeking fulfilment desperately.

'Hermione ... you are so bloody beautiful ... always thought so ... always ... waited so long ...'

His eulogy was boring her. 'Hurry up and fuck me, Malfoy.' She hoped she sounded lasciviously desirous rather than petulantly demanding, but she wasn't sure. Still, he leant down towards her. He had a nice cock; she'd noticed before. It would be curious to see how he felt. Her pussy was so used to his father that she wondered if she would come at all. She wanted to come. If Lucius hadn't sanctioned her screwing his son, there was no way she would, but now ... she curled her arms around his neck and spread her legs.

'Do you want me to lick you first?' he offered.

Hermione had to make a determined effort not to tut out loud. This was not the time for gentlemanly foreplay. 'No.'

Draco stopped suddenly, fumbling into his pocket. 'I've got the condoms ...'

He was scrabbling hopelessly. She yanked his hand away and directed it back to her clit. 'Screw the bloody condoms. I'm on the pill.'

'But I thought ...'

Hermione arched her pelvis towards him in no uncertain terms. At last, Draco snapped back to attention. He lowered himself between her legs and pushed up. Immediately, his eyes closed and he groaned with deepest satisfaction. Hermione thrust down, needing complete possession, needing him as far inside her as possible.

Once he was fully embedded, he stopped, panting already, his eyes closed, almost overwhelmed. She wanted him to move. He wasn't as large as his father and she needed the friction to reinforce his presence. Clenching hard around him, she brought him back to the moment. 'Shit, Hermione, you are so tight.'

'Move,' she demanded.

He did at last, stroking along her with thankful accuracy, not neglecting her clit. His hand came between them and rubbed the tight little bud just enough to maintain her pleasure. She would come, thank god.

But Draco was not going to last long and so she shut her eyes tight and pictured somebody else, willing her climax to take her quickly. 'Malfoy ... fuck me, Malfoy, harder, harder, Malfoy ...'

'Draco ... call me Draco ...'

She tried. She couldn't. Instead, she became silent and pictured herself in the Manor, impaled on his father's cock. Instantly, she came hard, crying out the family name once again. Draco by now was too far gone to care. He came powerfully inside her in several long, thick bursts, snapping his hips against her as his orgasm took hold.

Afterwards, he sagged onto her, a damp, limp weight.

'Fucking, fucking hell, Hermione. You are something else. All I can say is ... it was worth the wait.'

'Hmm.' She kissed him perfunctorily, nudged him to the side, and went to the bathroom.

She took rather longer than she needed, but it had the desired effect. When she returned, he was asleep.

xoOox

Hermione's report on Lucius' Community Service was due.

She'd compiled it a while ago, and as well as writing a detailed and lucid (but suitably detached) account of his rehabilitation, she had ticked all the boxes to ensure his continued freedom.

The afternoon after it was submitted she received a text. The number was unidentified. She opened it curiously.

_When you come to me tonight you will not say a word. You will walk immediately to the bedroom and remove all your clothing. Then you will place your hands on the left hand bottom post of the bed and wait. L_

A grin placed itself over Hermione's mouth and stayed there. Perhaps the community service programme had been more effective than she realised. She knew the Manor had a landline on an inaccessible shelf in the small sitting room in case of emergencies, and she had given Lucius her number, but she had never imagined him investing in a mobile. Even if he was only going to use it for sexting, that was fine by her. She considered replying, but resisted and instead simply put his number in her contacts and started counting down the minutes until she could leave.

When she arrived at the Manor it was silent. But Hermione did not hesitate in doing what she had been asked. She walked straight up to his bedroom. It too was empty, but she quickly set about taking off her clothes. And then, as she had been told, she placed her hands on the end post of the large bed and waited.

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**You may want a cold shower before the next chapter. And another one after it. Or even a hot shower. ;-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Bloody hell. I'd forgotten quite how steamy this part of the fic is. I think I've embarrassed even myself! Ah well ... happy - err - 'reading'. My hormones were clearly having a rave when I wrote this. I've split this into two shorter chapters, so there is one more after this.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I can't respond to you all personally due to time commitments, I'm afraid, but read and appreciate all your comments greatly.**

**So - shower at the ready, everyone?**

* * *

She did not have to wait long. The first indication she had of his presence was the soft hush of his clothing. She daren't look round.

'Good girl.'

'I –'

'You were told not to speak.'

His large hands ghosted over her anticipatory flesh, leaving a faint trail of prickling desire in their wake.

'I didn't know you had a mobile.'

'I said - _don't speak._ You disobey me. I shall have to take measures to prevent it.' With that he entwined a length of silk around her wrists and bound her to the bedpost. She gasped in, surprised by his actions but not disappointed. Her inner thighs dampened immediately.

'Draco tells me you and he have become more intimately acquainted.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'He told you?'

A coil of thicker material was immediately placed in her mouth, pulled tight and tied behind her head. She murmured a muffled protest into it.

'I told you not to speak. There is no need. You may listen, by all means, but you will not move or speak. Is that understood?'

She nodded slowly.

'I hope my son satisfied you. You certainly satisfied him. I have not seen him so happy for a long time. Did he please you?'

She couldn't respond. He was so close, the heat of his body warming her own exposed flesh, causing that heavy throb of need between her legs to intensify unbearably.

'I asked you a question. You don't need your voice to answer me that. Did my son make you come?'

She turned to look over her shoulder at him. He was assessing her with cool distinction, his face impenetrable. Hermione nodded again.

'Turn around.' She moved her head back around from him again. Lucius' was so close; his words were poured low and heady like the richest wine into her mind. 'But here you are now. With me. And you know you're mine, don't you?'

She nodded again.

'I will fuck you now, my beautiful girl. I will fuck you right here, tied to my bed. I will fuck you and fill you and make you come time and again. You know that, don't you?'

This time she could only sob in affirmation. All the while his fingers had been working their way up her inner thighs, invoking a relentless drip of desire to coat her hungry sex. When at last he touched her, rubbing a languid finger along the slit of her cunt to end with a graze of her clit, she bucked suddenly with a gasp which caught in her gag.

And then her pleasure swelled again as his left hand ran up her hip, along her waist , tickling over her breast until assured fingers came against a nipple. She pushed into it. Back and forth he flicked the tightening little nub, harder, faster, until it tingled and whined for more.

His other finger moved in time, circling her clit before rubbing hard over it, his fingers knowing the perfect pressure to exert. Her nipple was being squeezed and pinched now, but they knew each other too well for either to call a halt. Lucius' breath hushed over her face and her head fell back onto his shoulder, propelling her breast towards more sublime pleasure-pain.

'You'll come hard for me, won't you? And then there will be more ... and more ...'

His fingers annihilated her patience, and her orgasm hurtled suddenly through her, causing her to jerk so hard the bindings on her wrists tightened.

But almost immediately she was being lifted carefully, her legs eased off the ground and parted. And there it was, that sensational feeling of his cock, the only cock she wanted, stretching up into her, deep and hard, up again, deep and hard, deep and hard, until she felt herself crammed full of him. His arms relaxed and her legs dropped to the ground, engulfing his cock in her body.

'Fuck!' Lucius' exclamation was shot from him with his own sheer pleasure. He moved slowly at first, pulling out with long, slow drags of the length of his shaft, before sinking back into her, delighting in the parting flesh which welcomed him so readily. But then she moaned into her gag again and he responded. Reaching round and holding her breasts for support, catching her hard pink nipples between his fingers, he began to fuck her hard.

Hermione's fingers scratched at the post unawares, her body dispossessed from her mind, simply focused on the feel of fucking and filling with cock.

As he moved, his body surging back and forth with unseemly and desperate haste now, Lucius let go of one breast to push her hands further down the post, forcing her to lean over almost at a 90 degree bend. He grabbed her hips in strong fingers and propelled his way home, slamming in and out of her time and again. Hermione was euphoric. He was hitting her perfectly inside, coaxing bubbling, building pleasure from her g-spot.

'I'm coming first. You will let me come first,' he stated, his tone cold and harsh. It occurred to her in the midst of her rapture that this is what he would have sounded like if he had held her captive during the war. But rather than dampening her lust, it simply hurtled her closer to climax. She willed him to come, knowing she could not hold herself back for much longer.

Lucius was fucking her like some demon now, each violent thrust forward accompanied by a groan of primal force. His fingers held her brutally back against him as he surged into her, his cock impaling itself with assertive aggression inside her primed body, her body primed for him.

And then his mouth gaped and he cried out, not stopping, not slowing, pumping his come into her time and again until every drop was pooled deep within her.

It was with that sound, that low vibrating roar when his pleasure tore from him, that she came too, longer than the last climax, from a place which fed off the hard thick manflesh embedded in her. Hermione threw her head up and groaned into the gag, her fingers splayed as pleasure shot through her, even into the very tips of them.

He quickly released her, untying the gag and soothing her aching wrists. But Hermione wanted nothing more than to turn and kiss him with blissful gratitude. She spun smoothly, coiled her limbs around him and placed swollen, appreciative lips over him.

When she at last pulled back he smiled gently. 'I take it you liked that?'

'Just a little,' she smirked.

'Did I surprise you?'

'I think I've prepared myself to expect anything from you, Lucius.'

And pushing her back onto the bed, he set about keeping his word about making her come time and again.

xoOox

Hermione's curious life became ever more complicated. She continued to see Draco, and now allowed him to sleep with her regularly. She never stayed the night with him if Lucius was at home, but her ability to maintain two lovers came remarkably easily to her.

Guilt would occasionally surface, and at those moments her breath would catch and her soul would press down on her, hounding her with moral indignation.

A week after submitting her Community Service report, she was summoned by the Minister for Magic. It alarmed her how much this caused her anxiety; her shame over Draco seemed to extend into her place of work. But the Minister merely wished to congratulate her on her excellent work with Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy had, according to the Minister, clearly flourished under her expert guidance and tutelage. She decided not to tell him how she had equally flourished under his.

Draco became more expectant, Lucius became more experimental. While she restricted Draco to fairly vanilla practices – she surprised even herself with what she got up to with his father. Their sexual compatibility was just as secure as their intellectual and emotional compatibility.

Draco reminded her of a puppy – all adoring eyes and gangly limbs which didn't quite know where to put themselves. And a slight slobber problem. His kisses still needed work. But, like a puppy, he was becoming increasingly reliant on her. The guilt was beginning to hurt.

xoOox

Hermione was returning from a date with Draco. She had reluctantly accepted the invite back to his London flat but resisted his offer of another glass of wine. She had paced herself all night, wanting a clear head.

He quickly tried to kiss her again, his hand slipping between her legs. She wasn't in the mood.

'Draco ... not tonight.'

'What? Just a kiss, Hermione.'

She obliged, but she could tell he wanted far more than a kiss. His lips were bruising and needy and he forced his tongue into her resistant mouth. Holding her wrist, he moved her hand between his legs. She nearly jumped in shock when her fingers came across naked cock; he'd taken it out without her realising.

'I said not tonight, Draco.'

'Want you ...'

'Yeah well, you can't have me right now.'

'Suck me ... will you ... please ... you never have. I'd love you to suck me.'

Hermione swallowed back a tut and glanced down at his jutting cock. A drip of pre-come already clung to the tip. She could just lean down and get it over with quickly, she supposed. But the thought of having anyone in her mouth who wasn't Lucius turned her stomach. Draco had his hands on her shoulders now and was nudging her down. 'Please ...' he whined.

She leaned down, bringing herself closer to his leaking prick. It eyed her triumphantly and for a moment she imagined it surging forward and impaling itself in her mouth. She pulled back with a gasp of horror. 'No, Draco. I said no. I'm going now.' She stood up quickly, grabbing her coat, and pacing to the door.

'Bloody hell, Hermione, I get the message. You can drop the fucking attitude. So sorry I fucking repulse you.' He spat his angry words out while tucking away his quickly drooping cock with aggrieved clumsiness.

She sighed. 'I'm sorry. I'm just ... not in the mood tonight. I'll see you soon.'

He looked up, resigned, and eventually managed a watery smile. 'OK. Be in touch.'

She smiled softly and left him.

xoOox

Hermione went straight to Lucius. He was in the drawing room of the Manor, reading, but rose to greet her when she came in.

'What's the matter?' he asked, running his hands up her arms.

'What makes you think anything's the matter?'

'It's obvious.'

'Don't worry. I'm here now. It's better already.' She curled her arms around him and kissed him deep. He carried on kissing over neck, moving her top aside to nibble deliciously on her shoulder.

'Tell me more.'

'I got all funny with Draco. Pissed him off.'

'In what way?'

'He wanted me to go down on him.'

'Did you?'

'No. I couldn't. Not him.'

Lucius pulled back and fell silent. Holding her face firmly in his hands, he tilted it to one side and studied her intensely, his eyes burning in their ardour and assiduousness. She stared straight back, adoring the fire flaming between them. And then one hand left her and reached into his pocket, withdrawing something. Before she knew it he had tied her hands behind her back with graceful efficiency.

'Kneel.'

She looked at him. His face was now eerily dispassionate. It turned her on more than ever.

'I said kneel,' he repeated, his voice evoking that pre-war frisson again.

She did as he said. He quickly flicked his belt buckle open and undid his trousers, letting them tumble down. Then with no hesitation he placed his rigid cock before her mouth.

'Do it.'

She did.

Her mouth opened and immediately he sank into her, deeper, then deeper still, until she was stuffed full of cock and her breath was curtailed and her eyes watered. Still he pushed deeper, and her nose nudged against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen.

When at last he dragged back with taunting slowness she gasped in air but immediately craved him again. Lucius barely hesitated before pushing down again, inch upon inch of his cock being swallowed up into her. He moved in and out, carefully at first, watching with those bright eyes, now narrowed in concentration as she took his cock with her mouth and throat.

Instinctively, Hermione tried to reach forward to hold him. She couldn't. She had forgotten in her fervour that he had bound her hands. As she struggled against it he held her head harder and moved faster, propelling himself concertedly through her lips, over her hungry tongue, building his release.

He usually asked before coming in her mouth. This time he pulled out suddenly, holding the head of his cock only an inch from her lips and pumping it with his free hand. 'Open,' he demanded. She gaped for him. If she would question him later, she did not now.

He scraped in a rapture-roughened breath and tensed. Hermione felt the welcome warm viscosity of his come falling onto her tongue and lips.

Lucius took a staggering step back almost immediately and seemed to reel. Then with haste he moved behind her and undid her wrists before stumbling back and collapsing on the bed. Hermione stood, stretching out her aching arms, and crawled up to lie beside him. He lay there, almost sepulchral, silent and unmoving.

'Are you alright?' she asked softly.

'I should be asking you that.'

'Of course I'm alright.'

He was silent again until at last saying, 'I'm sorry.'

'What for?'

'For that ... A remnant of the past.'

'Is that what you call it?'

'My mind is at odds today. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you.'

'You didn't. You've tied me before. I know you. I trust you.' She grinned. 'Can't quite believe I said that ... but I do. Was it because of Draco?'

'Yes.'

Hermione stroked over his face with one finger and then turned over, staring out into the room. 'I need to end it with him. We can't go on like this. It's hurting.'

'Hurting whom?'

'You. And me ... I'm finding the guilt inescapable now. It's wrong. So wrong.'

'It will hurt him more when we tell him.'

She sighed softly but certainly. 'It needs to happen, Lucius.'

'I know.' The lingering silence confirmed the necessity of it. 'I want to be there when you tell him.'

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at him. 'I'm not sure.'

'Yes. I will be there. I owe it to both of you.' She stroked his face again and smiled gently. 'What have I done to deserve you?' murmured Lucius, closing his eyes as her fingers smoothed over his cheekbones.

'Gone through hell and come out stronger. What more can a girl ask?'

His eyes opened and a teasing eyebrow cocked. 'For this, perhaps ...'

And with that he slid down her body and let his tongue sweep long and hard from her perineum up to her clit, which he teased and taunted before sucking it deep into him. Hermione arched off the bed with the sudden thrill and threw a hand down to hold his head there. He worked concertedly, laving and sucking, relishing the juices which had been pouring from her ever since he had been in her mouth.

'Lucius ... don't stop ... don't ever stop that ... promise me, promise me.'

He broke away, still planting kisses along her tender inner thighs. 'I promise you anything, my darling girl. I promise you whatever you wish. Just as you trust me, I trust you, and I promise myself to you.'

If his words weren't enough, the return of his mouth certainly was. Lucius circled her clit before dragging his tongue hard over it time and again, needing her come as much as she did. It didn't take much longer. Hermione sighed out the bewildered approach of her orgasm, almost lost in the euphoria of it, 'Oh god, coming, coming ... You do that, you do that to me always ...'

He had to move slightly to avoid her limbs which shook and spasmed as ecstasy took hold.

They slept peacefully that night, never leaving the safety of each other's bodies. Tomorrow they would tell Draco.

* * *

**OMG! Lucius! (Remind me not to write men in such a way that I become jealous of my own protagonists.) Ahem.**

**One more after this. x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Last chapter. Hope you've enjoyed this brief little tale of desire. They have hardly behaved well, these two, but who can look back on their lives and say they treated everyone with complete decency, for whatever reason? In the end, I suppose, you have to do what is right for you.**

**LL x**

* * *

Lucius and Hermione barely spoke the next day. The knowledge of what they must do sat heavily with them.

She never allowed Draco to see her at the Manor anymore – the Community Service programme had officially ended and she had no valid reason to be there. But on this day he came into the drawing room to find her standing, waiting.

'Hermione! Bloody hell! What are you doing here?'

'I came to see you. Your house elf showed me in.'

Draco's face immediately fell when he heard her tone of voice. 'About last night ...'

'Draco ...'

'I didn't mean to pressure you. I'll never make you do -'

'Draco. It's not that.'

He stood there, tense, his face ashen. 'What is it then?'

She swallowed hard. Lucius had wanted her to wait for him, but she couldn't prolong things. 'I don't want to carry on anymore.'

'What? With what? Your job?' He was panicking.

She spoke as clearly as she could. 'With you, Draco.'

She heard his breathing quicken in short rushed gasps.

'But ... it's going really well.'

'I can't, Draco. I'm sorry but I really, really can't.'

He ran his hands through his hair in that distracted way he had when his world was in turmoil. 'But things are going so well. You're so good for me. You're so fucking good for me. I'll do anything. I'll do whatever you want ...'

'No.'

He darted his head up suddenly, his face grave. 'Is there someone else?'

It was her turn to look away. 'Draco ...'

He swallowed in panic. 'I'll take that as a yes.' Draco took a fast step towards her. 'Tell me who it is.'

She couldn't speak.

'Do I know him?'

Hermione turned away, her silence telling him all he needed.

He was angry now, his body tense, his face twisted, his voice snide and cold. 'Who is it? Potter? Back to Weasley, are you?'

'Draco ... It's none of them.' He was sounding like the Malfoy of old. She crossed her arms against it.

'_Who is it then?_ I need to know. I thought we had something good, Hermione. You let me think ...'

'Draco, I'm sorry. I thought maybe ... The times we spent together were really good. I just ...'

'_Who is it?'_ He stepped closer again. She was struggling to draw in breath. 'If there's nothing between us you may as well tell me. I'll find out soon enough.'

Hermione turned quickly away. 'I can't.'

'Draco.'

It was Lucius' voice. Hermione turned to find him standing in the doorway.

Draco looked at him dismissively, his face twisted with annoyance. 'Father, bloody hell. Leave us alone. We've got something to sort out. It's none of your business.'

Lucius took a step into the room. 'Perhaps it is my business.'

'How the hell can it be? Just leave us.'

'Draco – you can't have a relationship with her.' Lucius approached his son.

'For Merlin's sake, father – you're not still harping on about pure bloodlines, are you? I thought you two were supposed to be getting on?' Draco turned with sarcastic maliciousness to Hermione. 'Doesn't look like your community service programme worked.'

She spoke softly. 'It's not like that, Draco. Lucius has done brilliantly on the programme.'

'Brilliantly? Oh, really?' he scoffed with mock amazement, turning back to his father. 'Well, there you go, Dad, I –' And then he stopped dead.

Hermione glanced up towards Lucius.

Draco was staring at them, his eyes darting from one to the other. 'No. No ... no no no.'

'Draco ...' murmured Lucius.

Hermione glanced over to the younger man. He was shaking his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. 'You are kidding me. You are fucking kidding me.'

'Listen to me,' tried Lucius again.

'It's you. You and her.'

Their silence confirmed it.

'How long?'

'About three months,' said Hermione.

'Three months? But that's when we ...'

Hermione forced herself to be honest. 'I tried not to, Draco. I wanted it to work between us so much.'

'No wonder you wouldn't fuck me for so long. Who needs another Malfoy when you've already got one?'

She couldn't stand it. 'Please ...'

'Why the hell did you let me think ...?'

'I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I like you so much, Draco, and I tried so hard to deny what was happening ... but ... I couldn't ...'

'Why did you let me carry on?' He was forlorn. She closed her eyes against the pain.

'I couldn't bear to hurt you. I didn't know what would happen, I just ...'

Draco sniffed out with aggrieved defeat and looked to Lucius. 'And what do you have to say ... _Father?'_

Lucius held his head up. 'Hermione makes me happy, Draco. I can't remember the last time I was happy. I love you; you know how much I love you. And I knew you liked her. I didn't want to destroy that.'

'But you couldn't stop fucking my girlfriend?'

'I love her.'

Hermione stared at him.

Draco stepped into his father and stopped only a breath away. 'You are a disgrace to me, my family and yourself. You've never been worthy of calling yourself my father. But then, I've never known anything but selfish, cowardly behaviour from you – why should I expect different now? You disgust me.'

Lucius lip jigged erratically but he looked Draco in the eye. 'I'm sorry.'

'Save your breath. And as for you, Granger ... what a bloody fool I am. Seems I was right all along – once a bitch, always a bitch. You're welcome to each other.'

And he turned and left.

Hermione and Lucius stood, time passing them by, numbed by the juggernaut of despair.

'I'm sorry.' Lucius' words jolted Hermione chaotically out of her stupor.

She turned to him, bleary-eyed, and asked barely audibly, 'Did you mean what you said?'

'What?' He looked at her, his eyes damp.

'What you said about me to Draco.'

Lucius' expression creased a little as if he couldn't comprehend her doubt. 'Yes. Completely.'

Walking up to him, Hermione looked straight into the brilliant grey of his eyes. 'And I love you too.'

Still neither of them could move or barely think. 'Do you want me to go?' she asked at length.

Lucius reached out to hold onto her wrist suddenly, desperately, his grip tight with fear. 'No! Don't go. Don't leave me.'

And in the next instant, with a fluidity born from his need, Hermione had flung her arms around his neck and was weeping openly into his hair. 'Oh my darling, my darling, I won't leave you. I won't ever leave you.'

xoOox

When Hermione pulled back the curtains the next day and inhaled she was struck by the freshness of the air. Never had a new season carried with it so much promise. She looked back to the man still sleeping on the bed, his long limbs hanging limply over the edge. Hermione couldn't resist moving back and kissing him all over. He stirred, turned over and let her continue. She could tell his mind wasn't the only thing awakening. By the time he was fully erect, he'd spun her over, opened her legs and plunged into her in one smooth movement. Hermione took all of him.

'Good morning.'

'Hello, gorgeous man,' she grinned.

'So ... Miss Granger ... your little assignment didn't turn out so badly after all. I distinctly recall you initially proclaiming me to be 'a waste of your time'.'

'Did I?'

'Hmm.'

'Well ... Mr Malfoy ... you can continue wasting my time whenever you like.'

'Now there's an offer,' he drawled. And she came. He followed soon after.

'God, you're good,' she panted as he rolled off and lay with his arm stroking her hair.

Hermione stared above her. 'Do you think Draco will be alright?'

'Eventually. He's entitled to be miserable for a while. He always was brilliant at sulking.'

'He deserves to sulk. I don't want to damage your relationship with him.'

'It has. But it will heal … over time. I have learnt patience recently.'

'We shouldn't have done it like this.'

'You're not backing out on me now, are you?'

'Of course not, but ... why the hell didn't I just say no to him? I was so bloody confused. I couldn't believe I was falling for you.'

'Don't think I wasn't confused too. But under it all was this extraordinary clarity. I suppose I wanted Draco to have that clarity. But in the end ... I wanted you for myself. Selfish to the end.'

'You deserve to be happy too, Lucius. And anyway, I didn't want him. I'm more to blame than you.' She looked over at him. 'But you know what? He'll survive, and eventually thrive. And so shall we. Come on.' With that she rose swiftly again and pulled Lucius with her, taking him over to the window. 'See that?'

'What?'

'Spectacular, isn't it?'

Lucius looked out over the distant hills and creased his brows. It was the same view he had looked on nearly every day of his life. But when he turned to see the bright burn of optimism in her eyes he began to understand.

'Do you know what it is?' she asked. He cocked an eyebrow. Hermione's face broke into a beaming smile and without another thought she jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck and locking her legs around his waist.

Lucius was only momentarily caught by surprise but then he clasped her to him and kissed her deeply, breaking away to carry her back to bed before whispering in her ear, 'The rest of our lives.'

* * *

**LL x**


End file.
